They Who Stay Behind
by Valairy Scot
Summary: A newly knighted returns home with a new padawan. It's time to start a new life, trying not to mourn one lost and forever gone.
1. Chapter 1

_They who go feel not the pain of parting;_

_It is they who stay behind that suffer._

_--Henry W. Longfellow_

* * *

_Obi-Wan Kenobi. Anakin Skywalker_.

He should have been prepared for it.

_Obi-Wan Kenobi. Anakin Skywalker_.

He blinked, but the little nameplate had not changed. _They have discarded him already_, a blank thought beat in his mind, a beat that grew into a silent scream, contained within his skull. _Did he even – ever – exist?_

Oblivious to his master's hidden distress, a young padawan spoke up with the thrill of anticipation. His name was on the door plate. It was really truly real.

"Is this our home, Master?" The excited voice apparently was not heard, for there was no response, nor did the speaker see the adult's fingers helplessly fly to cover an unspoken exclamation, as if the gesture would still the tumult within a still raw heart. It bled grief. It bled silently. It bled behind barriers, buried behind shields that protected a Jedi's heart from the emotion he was not meant to display and felt all too acutely, even if only as an ache within his soul and a void within his mind. A bond wrenched out of existence; shadows of what had once been haunting the crevices of his mind.

Several days and a lifetime ago, and the world had reshaped itself into something unfamiliar. The young Jedi blinked, unaware of the hitch in his breath, the beat of his heart, or the cry of his soul as he merely stared – and became suddenly aware of the tug on his hand.

Obi-Wan Kenobi looked around and up, but there was no pair of sapphire eyes gleaming with amusement at a momentarily confused padawan. Another tug and his eyes traveled down, to the small hand of a nine year old boy; up to his eyes.

The world spun in dizzying array. _Padawan…no, never more…padawan…that is Anakin now_. Sapphire eyes, below the level of his own. Stars, this is going to be difficult. His eyes focused upwards, always, into sapphire eyes.

But never more.

He would have to learn to look down.

"Yes, Anakin. My," he pressed his lips together. _Focus_. "Our quarters." He palmed the door open as his young charge nodded in excitement, barreled forward, and stopped abruptly.

"What is it, Anakin?"

A blond head swiveled and surprised eyes meet the young man's gaze. "It's – just a room."

If there was one thing Obi-Wan Kenobi had not expected, this was it. His brow furrowed as he repeated, "Just a room?"

"Everything else is so grand," Anakin explained, not sure why Obi-Wan was staring at him astonished. "This is – a room."

A room? True, it was a room in quiet, neutral colors, holding two chairs and a couch, a table, with an adjoining small kitchen area. It was a room, but it was also memories, not just a place, where a large Jedi with silvering hair chuckled at his padawan's jokes, tweaked a braid in passing, fell asleep in the well worn chair worn by long use to the shape of his body. A room once filled with laughter, study, and meditation.

Home. Once.

Now empty and barren, its source of life forever extinguished, returned to the Force. Qui-Gon Jinn was gone, leaving behind his padawan – abandoning his apprentice in death as he had abandoned him in life.

This hadn't been home, that last night there. The emotions then had been dizzying and cold. Perhaps - perhaps that was the source of the chill he felt even now, down to his bones. His heart remembered what his mind shut out. Waves of disappointment and frustration from the master who had been denied the Chosen One. Waves of hurt and anger, humiliation, from the padawan who had been cast out, disavowed, replaced – _no_!

_No!_ Eyelids squeezed shut, a physical rein to threatening emotions. _No_. It was gone now, that time past, as _he_ was gone. It didn't matter anymore.

The room still breathed Qui-Gon's essence, pulsed with his joys, satisfactions and disappointments. _Live in the here and now_. It was how Qui-Gon Jinn lived his life, how he tried to make his apprentice stop focusing on the future and pay attention to the moment. And for now, his former apprentice would also take it to mean to let go of the past.

Just let it all…go…and Obi-Wan sunk into a corner of the couch and leaned his head back against the textured fabric as Anakin roamed around exploring. He was so tired. He had been tired for days now. Perhaps that was why the room was spinning…

He jerked upright with a gasp and found Anakin standing over him with a worried look, one hand gingerly clasping one of his where it lay on his knee.

"M…mom says the best thing to banish a nightmare is a kiss or hug." The uncertain face peered at Obi-Wan. Anakin had decided he liked the young man who would be his master, but he still didn't really know him. Obi-Wan had smiled and shook his hand when they had first been introduced, but his expression had been carved in stone since then. Perhaps he was a droid, devoid of feelings. Anakin hesitated; then saw a glint of moisture on a lash. A silver teardrop stuck as if an ornament, on a red-gold lash. It only sparkled there and did not escape its prison.

"Oh," he whispered – and wrapped his arms around the startled Jedi. "Do you feel better now, Master Obi-Wan?" Anakin was rewarded with the slow, hesitant creep of his master's arms around his back, and a husky intake of breath.

"Better."

It was a promise for the future. It was a beginning.


	2. Bonds and Healing

Emotions were never a thing to indulge. A Jedi accepted them, let them guide him, and released them. But the first step, always, was to accept them. And so, at this moment, Obi-Wan accepted the fact that a part of him had a need for comfort.

He took a heartbeat or more to just revel in the moment: small arms around his neck and another heart beating against his. A spark of warmth fluttered into being and slowly chased the worst of the chill from his body, a hint of the thaw to come. For as Qui-Gon's death had brought the ice of winter to his heart, Anakin's hug brought the promise of spring; so that which had seemed stark and half dead was coming slowly back to life.

Suddenly he didn't seem quite so cold or life so bleak. Suddenly he knew his grief would become bearable and life would go on, and he would find joy again. Suddenly he realized that the Force was forming one bond even as it had ended another.

With that last thought, Obi-Wan smiled to himself, his face buried in a halo of close cropped gold, for his heart now knew what his mind had known all along. No, the bond with his master was not ended, only transformed, for it was a bond that would span eternity as long as eternity and the Force existed. As long as he kept Qui-Gon in his heart's memory, some part of Qui-Gon would continue to exist outside the Force as well as inside.

And now he was finding room within his heart for another. This boy, of whom he had many reservations, who gave of himself so willingly, a boy willing to comfort one who was still nearly a stranger to him while struggling to adapt to the loss of all that he had once known and the man who he expected to guide him through it. The shadows he had glimpsed within Anakin seemed but a memory.

He hugged the boy tight and just as suddenly released him, suddenly awkward and suddenly reminded of his responsibilities. He couldn't let their roles be reversed. He was now the master, no longer the padawan. It was Obi-Wan who now had to be strong, to guide, and to comfort his padawan. For Anakin, too, had lost much.

He had lost his mother, left behind on Tatooine, and Obi-Wan knew there was no way he could comprehend the magnitude of that loss, he who had never known mother or father.

He had lost Qui-Gon Jinn, now lost to the living and alive only in the Force, the man he expected to guide him in his new life. The bond between the two had been extraordinary for two who had known each other but days. It was, he admitted, just as strong as his with Qui-Gon, and though its existence was of far shorter a time, a bond's strength was not measured by its duration. One of few days was no less meaningful than one of ten years and more.

He had almost lost hope, shriveled to ashes and bone along with Qui-Gon's body as it burned on its pyre, apparent when his teary-eyed face had so sadly looked up at Obi-Wan, the uncertainty and misery pulling the grieving padawan from his own mourning to look at the boy and assure him of his future – their future, a promise not made lightly.

It was somehow fitting that this young boy had pulled his eyes from the ashes of what had been to the life that would be. It was that moment, more than any other, which transformed Obi-Wan from a padawan to a knight in other than mere title.

It had been the thought of Anakin that had allowed him to keep his eyes dry and voice steady, heart well guarded while inside it wept, as he watched the hungry flames that reduced a body from its physical presence to its luminous form and released a Jedi to the Force. It had been the thought of Anakin that allowed him to make a promise to the boy, as he had to his master, that would bind them both for all time: to make Anakin a Jedi with he as his guide. It had been the thought of Anakin that allowed him to drop a hand on the boy's shoulder and show him a Jedi's strength under pain.

Eyes and hands – that was what he remembered most clearly from Naboo. Not the sound of the scream torn from his soul as he watched the fatal blow struck; not the labored breath of a dying man asking him to look after another even as his heart shattered within him; not even the crackle of flames that took his master away for all time – none of the sounds resonated as deeply as did the remembrance of eyes and hands.

Eyes, cloudy or teary. Qui-Gon's eyes, startled with the realization of his death - Anakin's eyes, teary when Obi-Wan told him Qui-Gon was gone into the Force forever - then Anakin's eyes, lost and uncertain with the reflection of flame and fire.

Hands, pale and trembling. His, when he had looked down and realized the hands that had taken a life were his own - tremulous hands of a dying man brushing tears from his padawan's eyes - hands of a new knight that shook when it braided a new padawan's hair.

Blue eyes and brown. White hands and brown. His hands, unstained with red though he had slain another - Qui-Gon's hands, pale and blue - even Mace's hands, brown and comforting.

He had been surprised when the head of the Council fell into step with him as they filed slowly away from Qui-Gon's cremation, Yoda flanking him on his other side, as if they wished to guard him. Perhaps they had been; perhaps they meant to give him strength, perhaps they only meant to keep him from faltering.

"Obi-Wan;" that's when Mace's hand had dropped on his shoulder, and as quickly dropped away. "Even Jedi need time to grieve. Especially when – the bond between master and padawan has been severed so abruptly. Take some time for yourself– at least until we return to the Temple. We can't give you more than that, but we can give you at least that. We can look after your padawan for you."

It had been tempting, all too tempting. He ached all over from battle's bruises; he ached all over from exhaustion. He ached for the chance to break down in private, but knew he would not – could not – find release that way. It was not his way, and it was not the way of a Jedi.

And then there was Anakin. Alone, among strangers. Lonely, among many. Equally in pain, equally grieving, equally lost. So young, not trained to deal with his emotions as Jedi were, bound to be suffering even more than Obi-Wan himself from loss, for he had lost both family and friend – left behind and lost to death – and mistrustful of the Council that had denied Qui-Gon's desire to have the boy trained, and in so doing, denied the boy that same desire.

"I can't. Anakin needs me," he said simply.

"What about what you need?" Mace's eyes were steady on his own, offering no pity but offering no condemnation.

"I am trained well to ignore my own needs."

Mace's face softened in compassion. "Not ignore, Obi-Wan, never ignore. Deal with them if you have time; submerge them otherwise until the time comes. We are offering you that time."

"Hurting inside you are Obi-Wan," Yoda added gravely. "Hide it well you do, show it you do not except to the eyes of a Jedi. Time you should take."

"But I don't have time. I have Anakin," he said. He would find time, sometime – perhaps in the dark of the night when dreams replaced nightmares, of horned Sith and red mists, of pain and despair, and the scream torn from his throat as his master was slain. He drew a deep breath and released it, hoping it would take some of the pain with it.

"I have a padawan who needs me – and perhaps…I need him, too," he repeated firmly. He bowed, and moved to Anakin's side. When a small hand crept into his, he merely looked down and allowed the simple gesture and when sapphire eyes, not quite so forlorn, almost trusting, looked up at him, he nodded back with a small smile on his face. No rules, no training, no formality for now – just two humans, connecting in shared pain as they walked into their future together.

And here they were, about to embark on that future, now that they were at the Temple.

No doubt about it, the padawan was helping to heal the master's heart.


	3. Chapter 3

**Note: This story was set aside as I was dissatsfied with some aspects. Later chapters are revised. Prior chapters were left alone - POV switches and all - this chapter is pretty old but cleaned up a bit.**

**Chapter 3. First Lessons**

"Thank you," Obi-Wan murmured into the soft spikes of the new padawan cut, then released the boy and lifted him to sit by his side. He hesitated, eyes searching his padawan's face and seeing in it both pleasure and relief – had Anakin thought he would rebuff his attempt to comfort him?

To be honest, he had to admit, this bright boy with the giving heart would not have known if Obi-Wan was receptive - he himself wouldn't have known had he been asked beforehand - hadn't known until it happened.

He was used to keeping his emotions well guarded – only his master had truly known what he hid inside; coaxed it out when he felt his padawan needed to speak or left him in peace when he felt Obi-Wan only needed time and space to find his own release. Emotions were dealt with in private, faced and released, as was the Jedi way. It was as he had been taught, and his master before him.

Was this the appropriate time to speak to Anakin, about Jedi and how they handled emotions? One so free with how he felt would suffer much heartache and sorrow, should he not learn how to release what he did not contain. His own inability to fully release his grief and pain was all too acute a reminder of that peril, though training, duty and need allowed him to move forward – nay, demanded him to do that which he must do, despite his wish to do otherwise.

Death had thrust them together - both grieving lives lost behind and both trying to forge a new beginning. He needed to set the example that Anakin would need to follow and it was best to begin now rather than postponing it too long.

How he wished he could postpone it – but wishes belonged to those not granted the privilege of serving the Force. A Jedi served not his own whims, but the will of the Force.

If he only had had time to regain his center and find release…been granted the time that even a Jedi needed to regain his balance before taking on the responsibility of guiding another, to be a better example of a Jedi….

…most of Anakin's contact with his new master had been only during the last few days, following Qui-Gon's death, when the new knight had been devastated and trying to cope – be the Jedi in practice as he was in name, holding onto years of training and experience as a lifeline.

Obi-Wan had worked hard to maintain his façade of Jedi stoicism, first before the Naboo, and then before the Council - always before Anakin - knowing that if he allowed himself to truly _feel_ his grief he would have fallen apart at a time he could not afford to do so. A Jedi had his duty to others and could not afford to break down when events might have broken a lesser being.

Anakin had had little chance to see beneath that veneer of calm acceptance he had been wearing so long - that many took as aloofness and coldness – just his restrained smile of greeting when they had first met aboard the Naboo ship.

Their only normal interactions had been then, on the way to Coruscant, for during the trip back to Naboo he had kept his thoughts and feelings to himself, holding himself somewhat remote from the others as he tried to deal with his hurt at Qui-Gon's words and actions before the Council.

Surely, one as perceptive as Anakin had sensed Obi-Wan's discomfort and distress following that absolutely devastating meeting before the Council; had to have known some anger and resentment was directed at him as well as the master who had all but disowned him under the guise of advancing him.

Surely, if he had been capable of knowing those feelings, he equally well knew how Obi-Wan had found a fierce determination to protect and guide this boy who was all he had left of a beloved master; how one look into those teary eyes as they stood before Qui-Gon's funeral pyre had made him _Anakin's master_ rather than a Jedi saddled with a boy he had not wanted, in nothing more than obligation to the deceased.

In all honesty, he had to admit his feelings towards Anakin had been born of both Force perceptions and the boy's replacement of him in Qui-Gon's life. He had resented what the boy represented in a way he had never resented the boy himself. Anakin had not taken Obi-Wan's place in Qui-Gon's life, not at all, for that life was now over.

How could he explain what he needed to say, to a boy who so obviously sought and offered affection_? Keep a hold on your emotions, don't openly display them, have them, but keep them inside?_ _Keep to a minimum physical displays of affection?_ Even _keep affection itself to a minimum, for we are teacher and student, not father and son_? Anakin was an open book, each joy and each sorrow displayed for all to see.

He would not easily fit in, this transparent boy with a heart larger than his body. He would not understand his fellow Jedi, or they him, if he was not taught to understand what they had in common rather than what they did not and what was expected of him and why.

_My padawan – this will be a difficult path for you to follow._

Obi-Wan cleared his throat, said a bit gruffly as he ran a hand through the boy's hair and let it rest on the stubby new braid, "Thank you, Padawan. I needed that – that hug, but you will find that Jedi do not usually openly display emotion and in future such displays will be," he hesitated, for a moment wishing it were otherwise, "uncommon and restrained."

"Why?" Anakin stared at him unbelievingly.

Considering what a relief it had been, to just _be,_ free from self-restraint, with a small boy's arms hugging him close, Obi-Wan found an answer hard to find, but Anakin was a Jedi padawan now, and one who obviously had little knowledge of how Jedi conducted themselves. He acted upon what he felt, never hiding what he was feeling. A Jedi could not afford the luxury of letting his emotions have free reign – not with what they faced and endured.

Obi-Wan would be one of the first to admit to feelings, but acting on them had gotten him into more problems than out. Only learning to conceal and release them had allowed him to become, finally, a Jedi. His mastery of such, there on Naboo, had been his final test. Failure would have meant death; mastery had meant life.

Thankfully, Anakin had displayed restraint on the trip to the Temple; his uncertainty as to his future, sometimes hidden behind bluster and bravado, had kept him relatively quiet, a contrast from the eager and talkative boy who had so amused Qui-Gon on his first trip to Coruscant, once he had recovered from the loneliness of leaving his mother behind. Even Obi-Wan had been somewhat amused, as well as bemused, at the boy's level of energy and lack of restraint.

He could too easily imagine how his first few days as the boy's master may have gone, under the Council's all too disapproving eyes, had circumstances been different. Doubt and anxiety, along with grief and loneliness had constrained the usually rambunctious and curious young boy and made his new master's first few days a bit easier than it might have been otherwise.

Obi-Wan held back a shudder as he thought of the interference he might easily have had to run between Anakin and the Jedi masters of the Council. He didn't need his first days as a master under censure for not keeping his padawan under control. The Council was still reluctant to have the boy trained as a Jedi; Qui-Gon Jinn's death, at the hands of a Sith had ensured that the boy could not be left alone and untrained, easy prey for a Sith.

It would not be an easy task and he could not shy away from it, but tomorrow would be soon enough to start serious training. Today, too many memories haunted him. He would give Anakin a direct answer, but a simple one for now.

"Today we will not start your lessons, but there are good reasons for it and I will go into detail later, when we review what standards of behavior are expected of Jedi. It is part of the Jedi code that I taught you – part of which is: 'There is no emotion, there is peace.'"

"That's stupid!" Anakin shot at him. It brought Obi-Wan fully upright, to stare at his padawan.

_What?_ _Stupid?_ The words hurt. They were the words that Obi-Wan had been leaning on for strength during the last few days, and to so casually dismiss them was disrespectful to something he held important. _Stupid!_ Obi-Wan took a deep breath and released his irritation before speaking. The boy didn't know better; it was his job to instruct him.

"And that manner of speaking is disrespectful, Padawan, and shall not be tolerated by myself or any other Jedi," he chided. "I know this is new to you and we shall cover what you need to know before you err like this in some less forgiving setting." He turned a gaze that wished to be stern upon the boy, but could not maintain it. Anakin meant no disrespect. He hoped. He would give the boy the benefit of the doubt, but he would also give him a correction. Others would not be so forgiving.

Anakin peered sideways at Obi-Wan, a bit taken aback at the reproof. His master was giving him the same look his mother gave him when he talked back; only instead of his mother's warm eyes he was facing blue-gray cool eyes. From the very first, Obi-Wan seemed always to be scrutinizing him, judging him, studying him. Yet this very same man, he was sure, had not taken offence despite the admonishment.

A flash of some emotion had darkened the eyes, though. Hurt, shock – or anger?

"That is stupid, Master," Anakin said with a straight face, as politely as he could, watching as Obi-Wan's lips twitched. He giggled impishly. "Is that better?"

"It is a step closer," he acknowledged. Anakin did not need encouragement. "I would refrain from such blanket statements around others, though. I, uh, haven't mentioned why Master Yoda carries that stick with him all the time, have I?" Obi-Wan cocked an eyebrow and watched as Anakin screwed his face up in concentration.

A look of disgust and horror crossed the boy's face. "He beats up Jedi?" Anakin shuddered.

Obi-Wan was shocked at the suggestion, then he relaxed and chuckled. "Rumor has it he whacks the ankles of padawans who ask too many questions or get impertinent. I cannot personally attest to that, having been far too well behaved."

Anakin looked unconvinced, and Obi-Wan grinned.

"I was joking, Padawan," he said. "That is why you will learn the standards of behavior; it is my place to protect you as best I can and to teach you the ways of the Force and of the Jedi."

"But I am already strong in the Force – Master Qui-Gon said my potential is huge and I'll be the best ever. I bet in a year I'll be just as good as you, and I'll be better the next. I'm going to be really strong and powerful. That's why Master Qui-Gon wanted so badly to make me his padawan; he would have done anything to make it happen. He wouldn't allow anything to stand in his way."

He spoke without thought. Anakin had not meant to be intentionally cruel; indeed, no such idea was in his mind. He spoke the simple truth as he understood it: he was better than Obi-Wan.

Hadn't Qui-Gon been willing to push his less gifted apprentice aside to make room for him? Maybe not better, not yet, but eventually. It was nothing more than the simple and obvious truth.

"Or anyone," Obi-Wan murmured, so softly that Anakin wasn't sure he heard correctly, closing his eyes to hold in remembered pain. He sat silently, lost in his thoughts, looking unutterably weary as he tried to still the tumult within. With a soft exhalation of breath, he raised his head, eyes now clear and direct.

Looking steadily at his padawan, he finally answered, "Strength is not everything, Padawan, as you will learn. Mastery of the Force comes when one hears it clearly, not when one bends it to its will. It is not a tool, but a companion, and a Jedi obeys it as much as commands it. None of us are ever true masters of it; so much is beyond our understanding. Perhaps when we rejoin it, perhaps only then do we comprehend fully."

Anakin made a face. What need had he of obeying the Force when it so readily obeyed him? He was the Chosen One – Qui-Gon had said so, destined to be the best and strongest Jedi ever. When he was strong enough, he would go back to Tatooine and free his mom and all the other slaves, and make all that was wrong, right. He'd do it all by the time he was his master's age, too.

Qui-Gon had told him all about the midichlorians, and pointed out Obi-Wan's abilities as an example of what one could achieve with a much lower count. He knew Qui-Gon had been letting him know that he would be capable of so much than the older padawan.

Until that day, he would learn all the things he didn't know, like fighting and winning, and making people do the right thing. Qui-Gon had shown him just what a Jedi could accomplish, and Obi-Wan would show him more – and then he would show them all what the best of them could do.

But for now, he wanted to understand his new world and master it, and his new master would have to help him understand it, until he surpassed them all.

"C'mon, Master Obi-Wan, come with me." Anakin grabbed Obi-Wan's hand and pulled the Jedi to his feet. "I want to know if I'm right."

"Right?" Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, but followed his padawan, allowing the boy to guide them.

"Is this my room?" Anakin dragged Obi-Wan down the hall and stood in the first door to the left. It was simply furnished: a bed, a small dresser, a desk. It wasn't large, but to the boy's eyes, it was. Datapads were stacked neatly, giving an organized look to the room that spoke of his new master, rather than the master he had expected when he left Tatooine.

Qui-Gon Jinn: who claimed his total affection from the first; encouraged him with open amusement and offered a small boy the fulfillment of his wildest dreams. His affection was open, transparent, and welcome, as was his protectiveness before the Council. He defied them, relinquished his own padawan, for him.

Him. Anakin Skywalker, former slave. Anakin Skywalker, Boontu Eve hero.

Anakin Skywalker, who would be the greatest Jedi of them all – better than Master Yoda, Master Obi-Wan, and even Master Qui-Gon – for it was he, the greatest of them all that had promised that.

For one heady moment, Anakin saw himself acclaimed as the greatest Jedi ever. Evildoers would cower at his feet and the virtuous stand tall – and his mother would be smiling at him.

The moment collapsed in a rush of homesickness. _This isn't what I left you for, Mom. I want to come home. I still want to be a Jedi._

Anakin's lips trembled, and he hoped his new master would not observe. Obi-Wan would not understand, he said Jedi don't have emotions. Obi-Wan didn't cry; he just – held it in, like the earlier tear that would not be shed.

He had shed none at Qui-Gon's death; he shed none by his pyre. He shed none then, or later. The day that emotion flooded from him – somehow, Anakin knew that day, should it come, would come from excruciating pain that transcended mere wounds to the flesh, a day the very Force itself would howl in protest.

"No, that's my – yes, that is your room now," Obi-Wan agreed, standing behind his padawan and eyes unfocused as they looked upon the room he had left as a padawan. It would never again be his, but would Qui-Gon's room always remain the Jedi master's in which Obi-Wan was just an occupant, or would it accept its new master and become his?

"Wizard!" Even a somewhat melancholy Jedi could not help smiling at the enthusiasm in the young voice.

"So is this your room?" Anakin raced across the hall and threw open a door. "Is this all yours?"

In time, perhaps; for now, it was still his, he who was at peace in the Force.

"Mmm," was all Obi-Wan could say. The room still carried his master's scent, spicy and elusive, and memories all but silenced his voice. The room still was brightened by now-drooping greenery, reminders of Qui-Gon's affinity for the Living Force, now doomed to a premature death at his former apprentice's hands.

_I shall have to plant them in the gardens_, Obi-Wan thought as his eyes passed over them. _Let them, at least, not die from my inattention as did Qui-Gon._

_Force, this shouldn't be so hard. I'm Jedi. _But even a Jedi needed time to grieve. Mace Windu had told him so himself, on the return from Naboo.

He had been, he was ashamed to admit, resentful and selfish, for the heart of a Jedi such as Qui-Gon had room enough for all.

He had no right to feel supplanted or slighted that such a bond had formed so quickly, whereas with Qui-Gon and he it had been slow and tentative, Force-blessed but somewhat barren in the first year or two. Perhaps, and it was a heartening thought, perhaps it had been the very success they had achieved that had made it possible for Qui-Gon to so easily bond with another young boy, one far more gifted than he would ever be.

As soon as the thought rose into his mind, he banished it. He would not be absent from the Temple for some time now, not with a new padawan to introduce to the ways of the Jedi: one who needed no introduction to the Force. He had been absent from his master's side, but the fatal blow was struck by the hand of a Sith, not the one who had been relegated to the past by a premature push into his future.

He knew now he hadn't been ready, there in the Council chambers. Now he was. Now he had to be.

He was a Jedi knight. And he would act like one.


	4. Dreams Too Shall Pass in Time

**Chapter 4. Dreams Too Shall Pass, In Time**

His determination to be in behavior the knight he now was in name crumbled when it came time, finally, to let his over-weary body rest. He couldn't sleep in that place of memories, where a young padawan proudly brought in a burned breakfast on the master's life day and was thanked effusively, where he lay curled up against the master during a thunderstorm – not that he was scared, mind you, but it was so comforting to be with someone and delight in the wild display outside the window. Memories. So many memories. Too many memories.

The weight of the silence was too much. It smothered and pressed upon him. It insisted on showing him what was there no longer, until it drove him away, until he, too, was there no longer.

He had tried. He had tucked Anakin in his bed, fetched one or perhaps two glasses of water and had finally retreated to what was now his room, changed into sleeping clothes and slid gratefully under the covers. He had fallen asleep before his head touched the pillow, and awoken the second he touched it.

Qui-Gon's head had last rested there. Had he found rest that last night, or had he lain awake, fighting to control his impatience and frustration at the Council, and indeed, at Obi-Wan himself.

The Jedi master was not one to harbor ill feelings, but his patience had been sorely tested and even a master as he had need to wrestle with emotions from time to time. He had shielded heavily; indeed, until Obi-Wan's shame and embarrassment at his behavior in Council prompted the padawan's apology on Naboo. Then, the shields had lowered for the first time in days.

The rift between them had been healed though the echoes of pain had not totally faded from memory. Time would have healed the lingering remnants, allowed forgetfulness to join with forgiveness, but time had not been granted to either of them.

Had his master's final thought, here, been of despair and disappointment at his padawan? Had his padawan's name been cursed, or not passed his master's lips at all?

"Aargh," Obi-Wan moaned, burying his head under the pillow. There had been so much more he wanted to say, so much he had hoped would be spoken between them at his knighting, when the restraint between master and padawan could be loosened and the heart's truth spoken.

Instead, the last words to fall from his master's lips had been of Anakin; the last from his, for love for the man who had shaped him, agreement to train the one who had been meant to replace him.

Qui-Gon's only concession to years of companionship, of recognition of the bond that had joined them, had been the brush of fingers across his cheek, wiping away his padawan's tears. Even that could have been meant as a final lesson, a reminder: There is no emotion, there is peace.

Qui-Gon might not have wanted his tears, but they had been Obi-Wan's final gift to the man who had all but raised him, the tears serving as the words he had hoped to speak when Knight Kenobi first faced Master Jinn.

And now tears and heartache were all he had left of his past. Perhaps it was – time to bury the past and face the future.

He couldn't do so, here in this place of shadowed memories. With a sigh, Obi-Wan threw off the covers. He had finally decided retreat was the better part of valor.

While he was up, he checked on Anakin, leaning against the doorway and assuring himself that the boy was finally, peacefully asleep with his cheek against the pillow, twisted covers below his shoulders. A finger of light spilled from the hall and highlighted the stub of a braid. Obi-Wan caught his breath, squeezed his eyes tight against the threat of tears. His padawan – his to guide, to protect, to – love.

Surely it wouldn't be indulgent – Obi-Wan cautiously slipped forward and straightened the covers. He had a hazy memory of Qui-Gon doing the same with him many a time, many a year ago. It was never enough to wake him, the gesture just a whisper in his memories. He let go the covers; his hand lingered upon it as he gazed down at the sleeping boy and a smile crept over his face.

With a sense of wonder he just stood there, looking down: his padawan. His.

_He's mine now, Master. No longer yours, but mine. I swear – I will guard him and guide him as you did me. I will not fail you – and I will not fail him. I will not walk away from him, only death will have the power to part us before he's ready. I won't do to him – what you did…to me. But know also I do know – that you loved me, as I love you._

Hesitantly, his heart guided a finger to a cheekbone, rested there a moment – so soft, so innocent – and a sob wrenched through him and he slipped silently away, to stand facing out the window with shaking shoulders and clenched hands.

Once he had his breathing under control, he wrapped himself in a quilt and stretched out on the couch, hoping that for once he could sleep without dreams of red mist and piercing lightsabers, of a scream of denial and the clatter of a lightsaber as it fell from a limp hand of a dying man…or the touch of a dying man's finger brushing a tear from his cheek even as he spoke of another.

Exhausted sleep finally claimed him, and the tightly coiled body slowly relaxed into a more natural sleeping position.

What the mind released, sleep could reclaim, for what were dreams and nightmares but memories and thoughts twisted together. Twin specters of pain - abandonment and death - would not leave the sleeping knight alone.

"I can't, I can't…," broken words in the night, spilling from lips twisted in pain, words whispering like a soft breeze that matched that coming from an open window in the deepest dark that could be found on a never-sleeping planet.

_Yes, you can…you can do anything_. Remembered words: words that soothed a troubled padawan when study seemed impossible, a new skill impossible to master, or a wound unendurable.

A form struggling into a ghost… smiled to hear the echo of his own words ….

_If you believed me capable of anything - then why…was I repudiated? Why didn't you wait for me? Why do I miss one who was not willing to miss me?" _

And a heart made of mists and moonbeams shattered and broke….ethereal fingers reached but could not touch – and a ghost wept; wept for his padawan and the unwitting harm some of his last words had done….for Obi-Wan would not do so for himself.

Despite the cries of a shattered heart and the unanswered pain, it was the least interrupted sleep yet of the newly knighted Jedi, for tonight the Force wrapped around him and permitted no nightmare to intrude, no strangled screams to be muffled in a pillow or soft tears to stream unchecked.

**

A lonely boy huddled in a strange bed, a grand bed, comfortable, but it was not comforting. It offered solace to the body, but tonight, oh tonight, it offered none to a restless boy, torn from all he knew. Regrets – he had none. What he wanted was in his hands. He would not fail. He would be a Jedi.

But how he missed his mother. Missed the knowledge that she would be at his side to sooth his troubled mind, to assure him that all was and would be well, that tomorrow would be a better day.

He would have known if the door had opened. Had his master even just stood there, checking on him without coming to his side, it would have been enough. But his master left him alone, this first night in his new life.

Obi-Wan didn't care enough to check on him, to hear him bravely state that he "was not homesick."

He knew it, now. Obi-Wan would not comfort him. He had already warned Anakin that Jedi did not allow emotion in their lives. Obi-Wan would teach him and guide him, but he would not comfort him.

A nine year boy away from the only home he had ever known was left alone. He would remember that, always.

The night slumbered on…

In the deep darkness of a quiet night, two hearts beat, and two hearts hurt: one reaching for his master, and one for his mother, and neither able to bridge the distance between.


	5. The Sting of Truth

**Chapter 5. The Sting of Truth**

_Parting is all we know of heaven_

_And all we need of hell_

Obi-Wan sighed and ran his hands through his hair, once again startling at the absence of the braid that had for so long defined him. He knew who the man was who had worn it. Had known his place and his role. It all seemed so simple, then.

That identity had been cast off as he had been cast off, a padawan, he couldn't help thinking, rushed into knighthood without preparation, acceptance, or ceremony. No stepping from one role to another with the gentle swish of a light saber slashing through a braid amongst his fellows. Knighthood for him was acquired by a brutal thrust of a light saber and the vault out of a pit.

Without that mark of identity, he felt vulnerable and exposed. He knew no longer who he was, only what he was expected to be and what he pretended to be, hoping he'd be that man and that Jedi. Not just a Jedi, but a knight. A mentor.

He scrubbed his hands over his face, in utter and complete exhaustion. These – thoughts – were not those of a Jedi, he recognized with a sigh.

It had been only days, or was it weeks, since Padawan Kenobi receded into the mists of the past. He needed desperately to find time to meditate. Between his inability to sleep for any length of time and spending time with an unnaturally exuberant boy showing little inclination to absorb lessons, he had had very little time for himself in the few days since his return to the Temple.

A chime pulled him from his work and he went to the door. Mace Windu stood there; a pleasant nod greeted him as Obi-Wan politely stood back to allow the Council member to enter.

*

"Knight Kenobi," Mace said formally, his solemn tone less formidable than usual. His eyes took in Obi-Wan's dull eyes and pallor, and he put a hand on the knight's arm. "Sit down, you look exhausted."

He was pleased when Obi-Wan grinned. It wasn't quite his normal grin, but it was a grin.

"Nine year old boys can wear one out. I should be inviting you to sit. Would you like some tea?"

"The standard greeting in these quarters – I see you're keeping up the tradition."

Mace mentally winced as Obi-Wan's face went very still, saw his stiff nod.

"You're not sleeping well, are you?"

Obi-Wan's first reaction was to deny it, but even he had seen the tired circles under his eyes. Red-threaded eyes gazed back at him each morning as he shaved. He was contemplating growing a beard, that way he could avoid himself, if there was no need to look in a mirror.

"No," he admitted, rubbing a hand over his chin. "I see -."

"What, Obi-Wan?" Mace prodded when the young man fell silent and seemed unlikely to continue. He was disconcerted when Obi-Wan turned his eyes to him and merely said through gritted teeth, "Dreams pass in time."

He waited until the words died, and leaned forward. "Nightmares, I think; am I right? Of Qui-Gon's death? That's nothing to be ashamed of, Obi-Wan. I can assure you even members of the Council have them from time to time. Plo Koon, now, well…" He shook his head, and was heartened to see a tentative smile bloom on Obi-Wan's face.

"You're probably wondering why I'm here." He hesitated, unusual for him. "Qui-Gon was my friend. He once asked me to look after you if something happened to him. I laughed at his concern, but I promised him I would be there for his padawan. For you. If the time had not come for you to be knighted, I would have finished your training. Not just for him, but because I saw the same potential in you that he saw.

"I hope you will not hesitate to ask me if you need anything. I may even lend you a shoulder to cry on, but only if you promise not to tell anyone. I do have a certain façade to maintain. The offer does expire shortly."

"I – I don't know what to, say, except," Obi-Wan said quietly. "Thank you."

"Qui-Gon believed in you, you know that, Obi-Wan."

Only a slow shake of his head greeted his words. "I thought so, once. He made it very clear just how 'adequate' I was in Council before we left." He swallowed and his fingers tightly clenched in his lap, though his gaze was steady upon the senior Jedi – eyes stormy gray now.

It was then that Mace realized how deeply the wound had gone.

No wonder Obi-Wan looked haunted. Qui-Gon's death, so shortly after that disastrous meeting, when Obi-Wan had felt rejected and angry at his mentor without a chance to resolve their differences…he cleared his throat.

"You wouldn't have the widely acknowledged," he stressed the last word slightly, "skills if you were just adequate, Obi-Wan. You had the beads to prove it, you were knighted young and," he held up a hand to forestall any protest the young knight might make, "you proved your readiness on Naboo. You didn't control your anger and hurt in Council and that was why we knew you weren't yet ready, but you conquered those emotions on Naboo. That was why you were knighted. Not because you killed a Sith, but because you conquered yourself."

Obi-Wan's hands were now worrying the hem of his tunic. He bit his lip; then asked, "If Qui-Gon knew I wasn't ready, then," he paused to gain control of his voice, "he truly was – was rejecting me. I don't think – no, I wasn't upset that he found someone else to champion, it was that he couldn't wait…."

He knuckled his eyes and stared at his hands and whispered so softly that Mace could barely hear, "to be rid of me after ten years for a boy he'd known just days, a boy still with several years to go before he had to be apprenticed to someone."

When he raised his head, his eyes were dry and full of conviction. "It doesn't matter. What is past is past. I am no longer padawan to Qui-Gon and I have a padawan of my own to train. That is my focus. Thank you for coming by, Master Windu. I appreciate your kindness."

He stood, face closed off, isolated in icy calm – emotionless, the perfect Jedi.

"Mace. Call me Mace, in informal settings such as quarters. If you need to talk, to Yoda or myself, let us know." The Council member stood up. He had planted the seeds, now it was time to walk away and let Obi-Wan ponder his words.

"You'll do fine, Knight Kenobi," he said, pressing a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder. The young man only needed time and sleep – plenty of both. He hoped.

This perfect Jedi before him – was not Obi-Wan Kenobi. Mace found this disconcerting.

**

Cold. He was so cold.

He rubbed his hands together, but this cold could not be banished, for the cold was internal and not external.

The chill of a cooling body, its fire quenched at the end of a light saber as he fought alone without his padawan at his side. The grieving padawan who had cradled the master, and felt the chill of cold flesh spread to encompass him. The cold had crept into him even as the cooling body of his dying master had cooled within his arms, there on the cold and unforgiving floor of the melting pit.

The master who had accepted his padawan's apology but would not await his help, who preferred to face his enemy alone than delay even a moment. The final repudiation, perhaps, a bold statement that he no longer needed his padawan.

The room was a blur after Mace left, and the words were bitter in his memory. He hadn't been ready, before Naboo. They all knew it. In his heart, he had known it also. Qui-Gon had truly rejected him, repudiated him publicly and expected his padawan to bow from the scene with grace. But the humiliating blow had been struck by his beloved master's own mouth, and the wound was worse than any physical wound he could recall.

With a stifled moan, Obi-Wan dashed down the hall and barely made it before his insides revolted. When he had finally purged himself, he turned on the shower and leaned against the tile wall with his head buried in his arms, where his tears were indistinguishable from the spray of warm water that didn't warm him at all.


	6. Remembering to Smile

**Chapter 6**. **Remembering to Smile**

The chill never thawed, not once. Huddled within his cloak, even within the Temple, Obi-Wan got through the day by doing all that needed to be done.

His lips said good morning to his sleepy padawan; his hands laid a plate of food before him. His eyes watched as the healers took Anakin for a physical and a standard round of inoculations, but all the time he felt nothing but an inner chill.

It was a chill he knew he should not indulge, but there was nothing to spark warmth within him.

No companions, no friends and no master – all his friends were absent, away on missions. His master was absent to return never more.

Garen would distract him were he here. Bant would hug him and send all the warmth of her tender heart to him. Siri would no doubt rile him warm with sparks born of indignation at her utter lack of sympathy though both would know underneath the cold scorn lay love and concern.

The chill would thaw. Obi-Wan knew that. Time softened all blows, thawed the ice of winter into the life giving flow of spring melt and the budding of life. Spring always followed winter, so rather than fight it, Obi-Wan did his best to endure it.

_Let emotions move through you. Accept them, feel them, and let them depart from you._

"Healthy as a bantha," Anakin boasted, bouncing into the healers reception room.

Obi-Wan merely nodded and stood, leading the way to another part of the Temple. "That's good to hear. You'll spend a good part of the rest of day being tested on your academic skills. We'll figure out what classes to put you in once the results are back."

"Classes?" Anakin's snort made it clear what he thought of that. "I want to learn how to fight like a real Jedi. I wish I'd seen you kill that bad man."

"Fighting can get you killed," Obi-Wan said more sharply than he intended. He took a deep breath, for though he had spoken with Yoda about having to kill another living being for the first time and all the attendant emotions, he was not yet fully at peace with it. "Jedi try to avoid fighting, and especially killing. Killing is – not anything to rejoice in. Even when it's necessary."

"He deserved to die."

"No one 'deserves' to die. It was necessary; I saw no other choice other than to die myself." Obi-Wan scrubbed a hand over his face.

"He killed Master Qui-Gon." Anakin's lip stuck out unapologetically.

"You think I don't know that!" _Every time I look at you, I see the absence of the man who should be at your side. Every time I turn around, I see the absence of the man who promised to guide me to knighthood and take my braid._

He sighed, biting his lip before he said words he should not. He would not say anything to hurt Anakin, knowingly or not, if he could help it. "I know…I know he killed Qui-Gon, but killing him did not bring Qui-Gon back. Killing him only kept him from killing me, and who knows who else afterwards."

"So killing him was good," Anakin said with the logic of a child.

"Anakin, I really can't have this conversation right now. It's too raw, still. I know you don't understand and we will discuss this another time, but please – not now, not in the hallway. Besides, we're here."

"Knight Kenobi." A tall Jedi awaited them, head tilted on one side and a wide smile creasing his face. "So this young man is your padawan?"

"Master Talnebi." Obi-Wan dropped a bow towards the Jedi awaiting them in the doorway. A hand on Anakin's shoulder nudged the boy to do the same. "Anakin Skywalker, my padawan. You will find he is a bright boy but we have not yet discussed his educational background. The Council and I will review your recommendations for appropriate classes within the next few days."

"Of course. Obi-Wan," gentle fingers reached to trace the knight's face as he held still to allow this. "Your heart is heavy, I see. Do not forget to take care of yourself as you take care of this child."

_He's blind?_ Anakin's eyes were wide as they took this in. Obi-Wan nodded.

"Aye, I'm blind in the eyes, young one, but one is never blind when gifted with the Force," Master Talnebi said with a little laugh. "Come, Anakin, let's find out just how right your master is about you. You might prove to be even more gifted than he."

"Not hard, considering you failed me in one class," Obi-Wan snorted. He looked at Anakin a bit sheepishly. "It was a very effective lesson for a seven year old boy; I'll tell you about it at another time. I'll see you later today, okay?"

To his relief, most of the Jedi he encountered respected his desire for privacy, the majority just bowing in passing. However, it seemed, all eyes seemed drawn to his absent braid, followed usually by a sense of surprise in the Force that seemed composed of equal parts recognition that the rumors were true and speculation on just how he had earned his knighthood mere days after being cast aside by his master and denied the opportunity to take the trials by the Council

Worse of all were the whispers that followed in his wake.

"Sith Killer."

Sith…killer. _Killer_. He may not have killed in anger, but anger had fueled his rush to face his master's killer. Anger had nearly cost him his life and perhaps that of others had he failed. Anger that he had not yet forgiven himself for, even if anger had now been burned out of him by his final and utter surrender to the Force.

He had killed the Sith but it sometimes seemed that the Sith had managed to kill him as well: he had killed the master and thus the padawan. Padawan Kenobi lived no more.

He had not been guided into knighthood, shorn of his braid at his master's hand. He had been thrust into knighthood, shorn of his braid by the blade of another – a blade that pierced his master and shorn the padawan of little more than his innocence, for Padawan Kenobi had retained a certain innocence.

Knight Kenobi had none – none except in the countenance of a small boy to remind him he had once shared that same innocence.

He would not take that from the boy, no matter how hard he wished to withdraw into a shell of icy politeness. So for Anakin, his lips curved into a smile; for Anakin, he laid a comforting hand on his shoulder when the boy looked at him bewildered at something new and unexpected.

For Anakin – he would get through this day and those that followed. That bright smile already gave him a reason to wake and a reason to try to smile.

**

"Wow! They're so green – hi, Obi-Wan." The padawan spurted into the quarters, stopped short with eyes affixed on the line of plants before his master. With very real amazement, he moved over and touched one, stroking the leaves with a look of wonder and delight.

"It's real. Wizard!"

"They're all real and quite alive," Obi-Wan agreed. He sighed and stood up, staring down at them. Despite himself, a corner of his mouth twitched, remembering his absolute trepidation to face his master after he'd been left to care for them during Qui-Gon's absence, some years ago. Somehow his master had coaxed the plants back to life.

Obi-Wan still remembered Qui-Gon's pained look and silence, that bleak moment of recognition that his padawan had not been capable of the caretaking of some plants, only to sigh and finger Obi-Wan's stubbly braid.

"I was banned from ever taking care of these," he said simply, staring down. With difficulty, he brought his gaze to meet his padawan's. "It was not my gift, Qui-Gon said. I think - would you like to help me move these to the gardens where they have a chance at life, Padawan?"

"Sure." The look on delight on the boy's face reminded Obi-Wan again of the dusty, dry planet that was the only place Anakin had known – until he had been introduced to the greenery of Naboo and the urban landscape of Coruscant.

"I love the gardens; I think you will as well." Obi-Wan handed some of the plants to Anakin and gathered the rest. "There's any number of fountains and streams there."

"Kind of like Naboo?"

The blood drained from Obi-Wan's face; stiffly he nodded. "On a much smaller scale, you realize."

Anakin's eyes dropped and he whispered, "I'm sorry."

"It's all right," he managed to reply.

"It hurts, doesn't it? I miss him, too, you know. A lot – he was nice to me."

"Yes, he was. He thought the world of you."

"He thought you were kinda special, too."

"Did he now?" Obi-Wan swallowed hard. "Well, I think you're kind of special as well. You've a kind heart, Anakin Skywalker, and I hope I can learn to be the master you deserve, though I'll never be Qui-Gon Jinn, I'm afraid."

He shouldn't have been surprised at that small nod of agreement. Qui-Gon had had an effortless way of connecting with people in a way he could never himself hope to attain.

"I know. You can't be him, but you can, umm…"

"What, Padawan?" Obi-Wan wasn't sure he wanted to hear what Anakin was so hesitant to say. His bruised heart wasn't up to it.

"You can try…to like me…like he did."

Obi-Wan's heart wrenched within his chest. He knelt and put down the plants he was carrying, took those that his padawan carried and set them down as well, then laid his hands on the small shoulders and gazed into those deep blue eyes.

_He's a child…confused and hurting…I wish Qui-Gon were here. Anakin needs him, not me, but I'm all he has. _

"I _do_ like you, Padawan. Very much. Never doubt that, but I'm adjusting, too, and I'm not finding it any easier than you are. We, neither of us, know each very well, so perhaps we will have to be patient and honest with each other. Maybe, together, we can find our way through this time."

Anakin bit his lip and then nodded. "Maybe it would help – if you smile more," he tentatively offered.

"I don't feel much like smiling, but I'll try. Okay?" Obi-Wan ruffled the boy's hair, and the disgusted look he got caused his lips to twitch in quiet amusement. That, at least, was an honest reaction, made utterly without regard to how it would be perceived. "Maybe you should remind me how, what do you think?"

"Sure, just push up the corners of your mouth, like this." The resulting face brought a genuine smile to Obi-Wan's face.

"Like this?"

"Uh, no." Anakin shook his head.

"This?"

"Worse," Anakin declared, shuddering.

"Well, then, I guess we should both practice – but we should take care. We don't want to scare any Jedi we come across, do we?" Obi-Wan winked at the boy, who merely giggled. The Jedi handed him back the plants, gathered his own and stood.

The rest of the trip to the gardens was made in silence but with many outlandish faces.

"Wow!" Anakin's eyes roamed all over, drinking in the gardens with all of his senses. Warm, rich earth scents mixed with the sound of burbling water. He set his plants down and ran over to a fountain, sticking a hand under the water and beaming.

Obi-Wan watched indulgently for a few minutes, then called the boy back to his side with a reminder that they were there for a purpose. Play could come after.

"We'll dig small holes, put the plants in and tamp the soil down." Obi-Wan demonstrated. This much he could do. It was the least he could do for something his master had loved so dearly. He blinked back a tear and reached for another plant.

"Obi-Wan? This place – feels – like Qui-Gon, doesn't it?"

Obi-Wan's hands stilled; then he nodded. Anakin was quite the perceptive boy.

The Living Force was strong here, even strong enough to seep into a young Jedi's soul who otherwise had trouble connecting to it. Here it had been simple; elemental. Here, he and Qui-Gon had always been in harmony.

"It does, Padawan." He stood up, noting the dirt on Anakin's hands, face and knees. He tousled the short head of hair. "Before we get you cleaned up, let's finish cleaning up our quarters, okay?"

"A long shower, Master?"

Anakin looked delighted at the prospect, surprising Obi-Wan. A sudden grin broke over his face. This boy had little experience with an abundance of water; he was about to gain more.

"Master!" Anakin's eyes grew as large as sah-ra leaves as with a splash he landed in the pond. He gasped and spluttered, and started to laugh. "Not fair, Master, not fair."

"Life is not always fair, Padawan." Obi-Wan kicked off his boots, rolled up his leggings and advanced towards the suddenly wary boy. A wave of water crested and broke from behind over the boy, drenching him.

"Wow! Can you teach me to do that?"

The surge in the Force was raw and tentative, not likely to succeed. It proved how easily Anakin intuited connecting to the Force; no padawan of that age would have gleaned even a hint of how to manipulate the Force as had just been done.

"Someday, not yet. You don't know how to swim, do you?" At Anakin's slow shake of his head, Obi-Wan merely nodded. He had suspected that, which was why he had been careful to deposit the boy close to the pond edge. "Would you like to learn how? I'll teach you to first float, if that's okay with you?"

He waded closer to Anakin and took hold of his shoulders. "Hold onto my hands and I'll lower you onto your back. Just remain limp; I promise you'll be fine and you can stand up whenever you feel the need – see the water isn't quite knee deep here."

He held his breath. Did Anakin yet trust him enough for this? He saw the uncertainty in his padawan's eyes, the chewing of a lip – then the suddenly extended hands.

"Okay – just don't let go, please, Obi-Wan."

A spark of warmth flared within Obi-Wan. "I won't, Padawan. I promise – and a Jedi never breaks a promise."

Two small hands were placed in his, bringing a lump to the Jedi's throat. He really was the teacher now – and perhaps it was not as difficult as he feared it would be.

"Lean back, now." He lowered Anakin to the water. "Take a breath and just relax, don't try to hold your head up – just pretend you're lying in a bed rather than water…how's that? Are you ready to let go one hand? You are – are you a fast learner or just brave?"

"Both," Anakin boasted with a huge smile on his face. "This is really cool, Obi-Wan."

"Wait 'til you try really cold water." Obi-Wan shuddered. "This is enough for the first time. We'll make time for real lessons later, but we've got dinner and some cleaning still to do. Up you go."

He pulled Anakin to his feet and was surprised when wet arms wrapped around him. "That was fun, Master."

They lingered a while, drying off, before heading back through the hallways. Anakin was all but bouncing on his feet, excitedly chattering away. As long as no other Jedi were around, Obi-Wan allowed it, only restraining the boy with a hand on his shoulder when he sensed someone approaching.

"A good padawan trails a step or two behind, quiet unless in conversation," he reminded the boy, who merely ducked his head in acknowledgement.

Obi-Wan palmed open the door, studiously avoiding glancing at the shiny nameplate by the door. Even before he entered, he sensed it – already traces of Anakin glittered here, mixing and mingling with the Force presences of those still here and those now gone.

The transformation of the Jinn/Kenobi quarters to the Kenobi/Skywalker quarters was already well under way.


	7. Joy and Sorrow

**Chapter 7**. **Joy and Sorrow**

Obi-Wan smiled down at the small boy at his side as the door opened before them. "So, my damp padawan, are you ready to make this feel like _our _home?"

A small shrug greeted him. "Home is where mom is," he whispered.

_Home is where one's heart is_. Obi-Wan didn't think this was the time to pass that Jedi saying on. Anakin's heart, not just his mother, remained behind on another planet.

"You can have more than one home," he said instead. He put his hands on the boy's shoulders and turned him so they were facing each other. "That home with your mother is up there," he touched the boy's forehead, then his chest, "and down there. This, too, will become home if you let it. Will you try?"

"There…there is no try, right?"

_He's learning already._ "Yes - or so Master Yoda insists, quite rightly if you ask me. If you believe, you can do things you once thought impossible. With the Force's help, anything is truly possible."

"Anything?"

"Anything."

"Like," Anakin looked a bit shyly at the man before him. "Like - another blanket tonight? I got cold last night."

"Well, of course you can, but that begs the question just as to why I found the covers almost down to your waist last night, then?" a bemused knight asked.

Bitter hurt flashed across the boy's face and he blurted, "You're making that up – you didn't even look in on me last night!" His lips quivered and he looked down, fighting back a surge of tears.

Gentle fingers grasped his chin as Obi-Wan kneeled before him and raised his head so that Anakin was forced to meet Obi-Wan's eyes. "Padawan. I shall forgive your tone of voice, but please do not presume to tell me I did not do something I did do. Question, if you must, but wait for an answer and do not rush to judgment. I did look in on you and you looked quite peaceful lying there and quite asleep, I assure you. I tucked you in and left without you being any the wiser."

"Did – not," Anakin blurted, knuckling his eyes, and hurriedly added, "did not hear you. I'd've known, I would."

The boy looked so miserable after the earlier fun that Obi-Wan let it slide. He himself was too old and too much a Jedi to act out his own frustration and confusion, but Anakin had neither age nor training to fall back on.

"Will you tell me the real problem; maybe I can help you deal with it?"

"It's so lonely here. I miss mom, and Kitster, and – and everyone."

_And Qui-Gon_, Obi-Wan filled in mentally, wincing. The only reassurance he could offer the boy was hope.

He stood and offered a hand to the boy, letting the door shut behind them.

"Of course you do. You've been here only a day – you haven't had a chance to settle in or make friends, or even find a routine. I don't even know what our routine will be as yet. Just take it one day at a time and one day you'll look back and try to remember why life seemed so hard. Try, okay?"

Anakin nodded. "Th…there is no try."

"Just remember that, Padawan. I won't promise you it will be easy. It won't be. It might take a lot of trying before you get to the 'do'."

"Will I make friends?"

"Lots and lots of friends, if you just be yourself," Ob-Wan replied confidently. "It might take a while as your age mates have all grown up together and know a lot about the Force that you probably don't. Like kids anywhere, they may be a little slow to accept you, but they will if you don't try to push your way in."

"I bet you never had to try to fit in."

Obi-Wan shook his head and said very softly, "I've had my own times where I didn't seem to fit in: I know how hard it can be."

_Like right now, when half the Temple seems to look at me askance and wonder if I deserved my knighting._ _Like when I first became Qui-Gon's padawan, when I thought he only accepted me out of gratitude because he seemed so distant and almost inaccessible._ _Like when you entered his life and I no longer knew where I fit in, because Qui-Gon thought to discard one padawan for another without bothering to even tell me before he blindsided me before the Council._

"The one thing I've learned is that one manages to get through it," he managed to say. "One becomes stronger as well."

"You've felt like, well, an outsider, too?" Anakin didn't quite seem to believe that, but the boy seemed to be considering the idea.

"More than once in my life. I'll listen when you need a sympathetic ear and I'll do my best to help you adjust. You'll probably find that a lot of problems come down to misunderstandings and ignorance, so patience and good humor will serve you will. If you handle it right, you'll probably have your age mates eating up your stories of life outside the Temple. You've had plenty of experiences they have not."

Anakin scrunched up his nose. "Do they know I was, you know."

Obi-Wan suppressed a sigh. A slave. No doubt; the Temple had a very efficient gossip mill. "Little is kept secret in the Temple, I'm afraid. Listen, a lot of us are given to the Jedi because the birth family is unable to take care of a baby or the child was not wanted. Some parents want more for their child than they are able to give. We come from all backgrounds and family situations – slavery is no worse a history than another, so it's not a big deal if you don't let it be. Okay?"

He tweaked the boy's nose. "Come on; let's make my old room _yours_. If you ask nicely, I might let you keep those model ships hanging in the corner."

"Those old things?"

"Old things? I built those years ago when I was about your age."

"Like I said – ancient." With a squeal, Anakin ran off as if expecting retribution.

Obi-Wan merely shook his head and followed at a more sedate pace, calling after the boy with mock severity, "You do know that manner of speaking is disrespectful to your – ah, elders."

A small head with gleaming eyes poked around the door. "Do you prefer respect or to be young?"

"Fair question," Obi-Wan conceded, before making a grab for the boy and upending him over his shoulder, holding on the legs of the upside down boy as he moved into the room accompanied by Anakin's giggles. "Hmm…floor or bed? How hard is your head?"

"Plenty hard according to mom."

"Let's hope she's right, then." Obi-Wan let go, though ready to cushion the boy in mid-air with the Force if necessary and twirl him upright. Instead, Anakin grabbed Obi-Wan around his rib cage and flipped to the floor, grinning happily as he landed on his feet, not head.

"How come Qui-Gon said you're always so serious? I didn't think you'd be fun at all."

"Did Qui-Gon say that?" Force, he sounded pathetically eager to know that Qui-Gon might actually have _spoken _of him when it had seemed all that he could speak of was Anakin. Qui-Gon had been in no mood to speak to, let alone about, his padawan since that traumatic scene before the Council up until their reconciliation in the Naboo swamps.

No, his master had been far too upset with him, or he as the only available proxy for the Council.

Why was he so desperately seeking validation that their bond had meant something? Was this questioning merely the result of a ruptured bond following a time of disharmony, of unresolved issues and things left unsaid? That had to be it. Yes, of course it was.

"Umm…he said you were ih-ih-revrent and rye when you weren't being serious. What's 'ihrvrent and rye'?"

Oh. Obi-Wan sat on the bed and grinned. "That, my padawan, is 'Qui-Gon Jinn speech.' He was no particular fan of my sense of humor, though he tolerated it."

"Huh?"

"It's kind of like making a joke about a serious situation. Let's say I was hanging from a rope over a chasm and someone cut it and I commented on how I hated to always be the fall guy as I plummeted down."

"Fall guy…that's funny." Anakin snickered.

"I'm glad you think so. Qui-Gon didn't appreciate that little comment as I fell past him."

"Really?" Anakin stared in awe.

"No, I made that up just for you." Obi-Wan tousled the blond hair.

"So why'd he say you were always so serious, then? You can be funny."

"Well, someone must retain a level head and serious demeanor when faced with a Jedi master who embraced childlike behavior at the most interesting times. If you, too, insist on behaving like a child, I shall be forced to remain serious if we are not in quarters and have to spend all my time trying to make you behave. If you behave like an adult, maybe I'll have a chance to behave like a child."

A sudden memory caused him to cough and pinch his nose. With any luck that story would not get to his padawan for a few years.

Obi-Wan leaned forward and crooked a finger to bring Anakin close, then whispered, "Don't ever believe a single word that Bant or Garen say about me. My friends," he clarified. "Garen, especially. He's like me, only funnier and a lot more reckless, and quite prone to exaggeration so whatever he tells you about me – don't believe one word of it. You'll like him but don't trust him with any of your secrets. He'll tell them to me."

"What secrets?"

"How I make you eat your peas but you spit them into a napkin type of secrets," Obi-Wan said, laughing softly. Qui-Gon had not been happy to hear that, muttering about wasted food and starving children. Strange, he now loved peas. "That's the only kind of secrets a padawan should keep from his master."

"Do you have secrets?"

Obi-Wan nodded solemnly. "Oh, a lot, known to others pretty much, but you'll just have to find them out for yourself."

"Girls? Do you have a girlfriend?"

"So many I can't keep track of them. You've meet Master Yaddle – she was my first crush, when I was five." He chuckled at Anakin's look of incredulity. Master Yaddle was a Crèche favorite due to her kindness, something Anakin had never experienced for himself.

He quickly sobered.

"No, Anakin, Jedi don't have girlfriends and Jedi don't marry, because we are supposed to be dedicated to all beings, not just one." Which was why he had so deeply buried his love for Siri, so deep he was rarely conscious of it anymore. It was just a part of him, if unacknowledged.

"I love Padmé," Anakin confessed.

"Of course you do, and she loves you. But she is not your girlfriend and you are not her boyfriend, so that's okay." Obi-Wan tugged the stub of a braid and smiled. "You'll outgrow her at the same pace as this will grow."

"I'll never outgrow Padmé," Anakin vowed.

"Well, we'll see in a few more years. How about we worry about now – like doing some work to make this place more like home?" With a gentle nudge against the boy's shoulder, the two stood up ready to go to work.

"Why don't you just stack those datapads into a box for now? I'll sort them later, but I don't want to mix them up with Qui-Gon's," Obi-Wan directed as he emptied the closet of his few clothes and laid them on the bed.

"Were you happy here, Master?" Anakin suddenly stopped what he was doing as he saw Obi-Wan gazing at something.

"It was my refuge when life seemed to have its ups and downs," he admitted. "Still, it's just a room I slept and studied in, when all's said and done." He fingered something he held in his hand.

Anakin came over to see what Obi-Wan seemed so fascinated by. With a smile, Obi-Wan opened his hand and displayed the stones on his palm.

"Rocks?"

"Not just rocks; memories of different missions. It all started with one rock." He reached into his belt with his left hand and pulled out the stone Qui-Gon had given him so many years ago. "My thirteenth life day gift from Qui-Gon."

"He gave you a _rock_?"

"Indeed, and one I still treasure. Do you feel anything?" He laid the rock on Anakin's palm.

"It's smooth. Hard and – it's warm?"

"It's Force sensitive. In a few more years we'll see if you have a different reaction." Obi-Wan took back the rock and tucked it away. It was his treasure, but a Jedi was not really supposed to be attached to things. When Anakin was thirteen, perhaps he should consider gifting it to him.

Yet he had so little left of his master. Some portion of his hair, still fused with his padawan braid. His lightsaber, which had saved him. His padawan, now his – and this rock.

Life moved on; life was never static. He looked down at Anakin. He was still transitioning from one life to another, but the old one was already all but gone. No point in mourning what could never be reclaimed.

"Take those boxes into the hallway for now," Obi-Wan instructed. He headed for the linen closet and came back with a second blanket. He himself slept warm, never needing much, but Anakin came from a much warmer climate and wasn't yet adapted. It was no wonder he found it cold.

His hands stilled as he tucked the blanket in. Perhaps Anakin was cold, as well, for much of the same reasons he had been chilled ever since his return.

They both felt out of synch and out of place. Strangers in a strange place, even if this had always been his home.

This room was no longer his. Anakin had yet to leave his imprint on it, but Obi-Wan's had been removed.

One task done; one left to do. Obi-Wan sighed; it could be delayed no longer. It was time to clear out Qui-Gon's things and stir the ghosts bound in the memories of so much in that room.

He was heartened to feel his padawan's small fingers wrap around his as they stood in the doorway of what had been Qui-Gon's room. A room, merely a room – a place, not a person – a room devoid of personality unless its owner…Obi-Wan took a deep breath and looked down to see Anakin peering up at him. The boy hesitated to speak, before finally saying, "Maybe you can sleep in there rather than on the couch – after."

"I don't sleep well no matter where I lay down," Obi-Wan murmured.

"You can sleep with me."

"Oh, so I can listen to your snoring all night?"

"I don't snore!"

The indignation in the tone as well as the sincerity in the offer made Obi-Wan pull the boy close to his side in a brief hug. "If you were asleep, you wouldn't know if you snored or not, would you? Thanks, Padawan, but my sleep issues are mine alone. Well – should we?"

The spare clothes, those could go first, Obi-Wan decided. Spare boots and a cloak…tunics and leggings, all were bundled into a carryall to return to laundry, to be sorted and cleaned, then perhaps re-used or donated.

Now there was everything else to deal with.

Qui-Gon had not been a tidy person, at least by his former padawan's standards. His organizational methods seemed to be based on the principle of least energy expended. Mission reports, datapads, they were all strewn where ever. Obi-Wan reflected sourly that he probably would be stumbling across a few for the next several years.

"Why don't you organize the datapads into groupings – some may need to be returned to the Archives; I'll sort through them later," Obi-Wan said. There might be mission notes in there, training notes…."

Anything was possible with Qui-Gon.


	8. Speak in Haste, Repent in Death

**Chapter 8. Speak in Haste, Repent in Death**

Tucked near at hand, yet out of sight, was a holopictures of Tahl, Qui-Gon's old friend, well worn as if often held within gentle hands. Tahl, dear, sweet Tahl.

"_Obi-Wan, your master is a man of few words. He_ chose _you. If you need to know why, you ask a question without an answer, because the choice is what matters."_

"_I don't even know if he likes me, what if he's…just grateful?" Only to Tahl could an uncertain thirteen-year-old boy unburden himself of doubts and fears. A Jedi wasn't supposed to doubt or to fear. If he voiced those concerns to Qui-Gon he would just diminish himself in his master's eyes. He couldn't bear the look of disappointment he was sure to see. _

_He owed the big Jedi so much – so very much – but he wanted to be the padawan Qui-Gon wanted, not just the one he had accepted._

"_He is grateful – that you chose to accept him as your master. His hesitation was never about you, but himself. One day you will understand, Obi-Wan. He will learn to speak of that which matters, if you do the same."_

_He had turned, and found Qui-Gon standing in the doorway. "My padawan." _

_And it wasn't just the words, but the tone in which they were spoken._

"_Master." And the two hands placed ever so gently on his shoulders and the smile on Qui-Gon's face made his fears so foolish. So very foolish._

"_Thank you, Tahl, for speaking what I should have. Come, Obi-Wan."_

_And he had been at Qui-Gon's side ever since, not questioning whether or not that was where he belonged because they both knew it _was _where he belonged. At Qui-Gon's side._

_Until he was knighted._

"We both loved him for who he was, right, Tahl?" He smiled, albeit with a bit of difficulty, and set the holopicture aside, to be added to the others he would place on the walls.

A tug at his tunic gained his attention. "I found this," Anakin announced, standing at Obi-Wan's side and offering him a datapad, barely glancing at the holopicture his master had been studying. "It was with some of Qui-Gon's flimsies, you know, on the shelf by his – ah, I mean your – bed, but it's unlabeled – which pile should it go in?"

"Thanks, Padawan, you can hand it to me," Obi-Wan said, holding out a hand. As it switched hands, a finger brushed the audio button, and Qui-Gon's rich voice, abrupt and seething, erupted into the room. Obi-Wan's hand tensed, and the pad fell to the ground, where Anakin, ever helpful, tried to retrieve it only to accidentally knock it under the bed even as the voice continued its tirade.

"…_and that Sith-begotten Council doesn't recognize what is in front of it. Anakin is the Chosen One and they refuse him. They, as well as my own padawan, say they sense danger in him. The Council is too often blind, but Obi-Wan! I have never been so disappointed in him. He's not the Jedi or man I've raised him to be, that I was so sure he was. Obi-Wan stands with the Council when he should stand with me – or step aside._

"_My padawan," a hurt breath, "he is jealous of a boy who he must see will be a much greater Jedi than he could ever hope to be. Never would I have thought Obi-Wan to be so petty and jealous as to – to deny the Force's will, even, and delight in a child's heartbreak. Let the Council do with him as it thinks best: I will obey both the Force and honor my promise to the boy. If he can, let Obi-Wan try to prove his worth and move on and I will take Anakin as my padawan…pathetic life forms, indeed…._

*

Anakin stared wide-eyed at his master, whose legs suddenly seemed to have collapsed under him as he all but fell to the edge of the bed and past it, sliding to the floor. A guttural moan held indescribable pain, pain that Anakin instinctively knew came from a place he didn't understand - and hoped he never would.

Obi-Wan sat with his head in his hands, shaking, all in a totally quiet and contained way that fascinated him and scared him all at the same time.

"Turn it off, turn it off, Anakin," he pleaded in a voice that Anakin did not recognize. "Turn _him_ off!"

Anakin fumbled for the device as the voice continued its tirade – and froze as he registered Qui-Gon's words.

"_Anakin is no 'pathetic lifeform' as Obi-Wan called him, he's the Chosen One…" and the voice stopped suddenly as Anakin stared at the device, then up at his white-faced master who had reached out a trembling hand and shut off the device with a slap of the Force._

"I hate you," he shouted suddenly and darted for his room. He buried his head under his pillow as in the other room, the new knight sat frozen in horror, unable to move, to speak, or to go after his padawan.

_I'm not pathetic, I'm not. He is – he is. _

Everything Anakin had suspected once was now proved correct. Obi-Wan hated him because Qui-Gon wanted him, not Obi-Wan. He wanted Qui-Gon to break his promise that he would make Anakin a Jedi; he didn't want to be shown up as the pathetic Jedi he really was because Anakin would be a better one – the best ever – Qui-Gon had said so.

Obi-Wan planned to make Anakin suffer while he kept a promise, but he hadn't promised to care for Anakin, only to see him to knighthood.

Obi-Wan would say or do anything to get back at both Qui-Gon and Anakin.

He had even lied about checking on Anakin the night before, because Anakin _knew_ he had not.

He had thrown Anakin into the pond, even though he _knew_ Anakin didn't know how to swim.

He had called Anakin pathetic to make Qui-Gon think he was the better apprentice.

Obi-Wan didn't like the idea that someone – Anakin - could be better than him and more important. _He_ was important: he had been the means to free Padme and the Jedi from Tatooine by winning the Boonta Eve race. The younger Jedi had remained aboard the ship doing absolutely nothing while Anakin was saving everyone.

Then when Obi-Wan had had the chance to save some one, he had failed miserably. He had battled at Qui-Gon Jinn's side, but the Jedi master had died. All because Obi-Wan was not able to keep up, because he left himself open and was kicked out of the fight like the pathetic swordsman he must be. When Qui-Gon had needed him most – Obi-Wan wasn't there.

Anakin was sure he, the Hero of Naboo, could have assured that Qui-Gon lived.

Everyone praised him, everyone poured accolades on him – everyone but Obi-Wan and the rest of the Jedi.

And now Qui-Gon Jinn himself had spoken how disappointed he was in Obi-Wan and his attitude towards Anakin. It was quite clear now. His new master despised him!

Qui-Gon should not have been the one to die. It should have been Obi-Wan.

*

Fingers racked through hair; the paralysis slow to ebb. Numbness still gripped the heart, but the mind was slowly emerging from its shock.

Obi-Wan had no frame of reference to guide him on what action to take or if he was even capable of taking such action.

What did a Jedi – a man – he – do when life slapped one in the face? Pick oneself up? He couldn't even stand up. He sat, knees to his chest, arms wrapped around his legs as if that could hold him together. Perhaps it was the only thing keeping him together. He couldn't let go – didn't dare to find out how many pieces he would shatter into should he let go.

What did a master do when the master/padawan relationship was ruined, almost as soon as it had begun?

Twice now within the span of days Qui-Gon had ripped Obi-Wan in two, and this time, he had added another victim, albeit unknowingly.

Qui-Gon had never been that disappointed in Obi-Wan – so angry – before. Yes, they had made steps towards reconciliation, but to know just how deeply, utterly _disgusted_ Qui-Gon had been…

…this time there was nothing to purge in a porcelain bowl. No pain, no emotion, no thought, even. Obi-Wan leaned his head against the bed and let the hollow center expand and grow until it consumed him, swirling into darkness, into oblivion, where perhaps he might finally find peace for at least a little while.

And it was cold, so cold, again.


	9. Reconciliation

**Chapter 9. Reconciliation**

Morning came at last.

Exhaustion from a long night's darkness still claimed two within its grasp. Oblivion had been a mercy, but it must soon yield to reality. Each sunrise was the dawn of a new day; would its gift today be accepted as a promise or rejected?

Arise, wake…the light nudged as the day brightened. But the light was not enough. It needed more, to banish the darkness. It needed…

…warmth awoke him, spilling in from the window on long fingers of light. Obi-Wan huddled within it, seeking to enfold it around his oh-so-cold self until his mind came awake and understood the source that merely warmed, not removed, the chill in his body.

He hadn't truly been warm since – before.

He had slept as if drugged and sleep still tugged at his mind. He vaguely understood it had been free of nightmares, this sleep that really was not - for this time the nightmare had happened while awake…Qui-Gon's voice, his disappointment in Obi-Wan, his disdain for his apprentice's words – Anakin!

Oh, Force, Anakin!

Obi-Wan knuckled the sleep from his eyes and stumbled from the room, suddenly desperate to check on the boy. He lightly knocked on the door; he would not intrude on the boy after the previous day's events.

_Please, Padawan, let me talk to you…please._

"Anakin," he called, hoping the panic he felt twisting within him wasn't evident in his voice. "May I come in and – and explain? Please?"

Taking the absence of a reply as permission, Obi-Wan pushed the door open and slowly stepped in. Anakin lay as he had flung himself into bed, clothed and face pushed tight into the pillow and hands clenched into fists that had apparently beaten the bedclothes into submission.

He knew the posture well. How often had he curled up, seeking refuge under a pillow when the world seemed to close in around him and steal everything away? Closed off, hurting, yet wanting someone – his master – to make it right, though of course he never had, not in those days.

Now he was the master, and a pretty poor one at that. He couldn't remake the past, but by the Force, he could reshape the future – if Anakin gave him the chance.

He swallowed hard, not sure how to begin, what to say. Sorry, yes, sorry was the easy thing to say, yet _sorry _was the most important thing to say and more importantly, to mean.

"Padawan, I'm sorry, so very sorry. I know those words hurt you and I won't deny that I was very conflicted about you entering our lives. But what Qui-Gon said; what he thought I said and thought – he was very upset. Qui-Gon was mistaken when he thought I called you – that. There is a story behind that – that comment. Let me explain, please."

He sank to his knees beside the boy and reached out a tentative hand, rubbed his back in slow circles as Qui-Gon had once done to him, had once calmed the boy he had been, so very long ago now, it seemed. The back muscles only tensed under his touch, confirming Anakin was awake and doing his best to ignore Obi-Wan.

Bitter hurt and angry resentment still disturbed the Force, not at all lessened by the passage of time.

"Qui-Gon championed many things. He saw so much more clearly than I, and I eventually came to see how blind I was – am. The Living Force ran strong in him, as it has never in me. He was a – much better man and Jedi – than I am or could ever hope to be. It was, was," he tried not to gasp, but the pain in his chest was so tight he couldn't help it, "a sort of joke between us. Teasing.

"What I said was never a cruel comment about you. Never. In fact, I hadn't a clue who or what he had found when he mentioned he had something else to retrieve before we left Tatooine. You wouldn't be my padawan now if I had meant you. You must believe that, Anakin, you must."

By the end of this speech, Obi-Wan didn't care how desperate he sounded, or pitiful. He only wanted Anakin to forgive him.

"I'm not pathetic." A muffled sound barely escaped the pillow.

"You're not, no. The original 'pathetic life form' was me; it started as a joke when I had fallen into something and looked – well, pathetic. It sort of became a shorthand comment for something that looked outwardly a mess but hid something possibly of merit inside.

"You didn't want anything to do with me, ever. You were mad at everyone when Qui-Gon said he'd train me. You were happy the Council said no."

Obi-Wan wiped a hand across his eyes and took a deep breath. So many emotions had flashed through him there – disbelief, horror, satisfaction – and everyone in that room had been aware of each one, except, perhaps, Qui-Gon himself. _He_ had been too focused on Anakin to even care what impact his words had had on his padawan of ten years.

He hadn't _cared_, and that was the deepest pain of all. Until now, until this boy heard words that made him just as hurt and angry as he had been.

He bent over and spoke to the pillow, to the spot where Anakin's ear should be under.

"I was angry and hurt in Council, but never at you. At myself for thinking my place was secure and at Qui-Gon for proving me wrong, for he had once vowed to train me until I was ready for knighthood. Please, believe me. Forgive me."

_Please, Anakin._ Would the boy's generous heart hear him? Could he forgive the pain – could he forgive the words that though true, were honed and sharpened almost past recognition into a twisted representation of the truth through a prism of Qui-Gon's disappointment and anger?

He felt a tremulous fumbling through the Force, through the fledging bond, and opened his heart for full display of its truth.

Suddenly, the boy erupted from the bed and wrapped his arms around Obi-Wan's neck, buried his head in his shoulders. "Do you mean it, Obi-Wan? Do you really want me?"

The ring of absolute truth was in his reply. "I want you, Padawan."


	10. Let Go of All Your Troubles

**Chapter 10. Let Go of All Your Troubles**

It was time to close the door on the past and open the door to the future – to Anakin. Qui-Gon Jinn had severed any ties that might have remained. Obi-Wan had picked up the pieces and rewoven them with another now.

The only thing left of his master was his promise to Anakin, only now that promise had been transferred to Anakin. He would train Anakin, but not for Qui-Gon, but for himself and for Anakin. If to claim his rightful place meant dismissing Qui-Gon from memory, he would do so.

Live in the moment! Oh, Qui-Gon would be proud, finally, that Obi-Wan had now accepted that mantra as his own.

Anakin had forgiven him!

Obi-Wan held that dear, for no matter how Qui-Gon's angry words had twisted the reality beyond recognition, he could not deny they were rooted in truth. He _had_ been hurt and jealous, even if he had fought past that. He had not seen Anakin as he truly was, but as what he had represented – a threat.

He had been entitled to his hurt, but not entitled to inflict it on another. It didn't matter his intentions. Anakin was the catalyst, but not the cause.

They had had a long talk, where Obi-Wan confessed why he had reacted as he had, to explain that Jedi made mistakes and hurt others. How in his own hurt, Qui-Gon, too, had reacted to his perception of events. How they had started to mend the breach between them on Naboo; how time had not granted them the ability to move past forgiveness to forgetfulness.

And how now, Obi-Wan reached out to Anakin for forgiveness, and been granted both it and a hug, both of which he cherished.

"Words said in the heat of emotion should never be heeded as pure truth," became a lesson both vowed then and there to keep in mind.

**

Obi-Wan watched, a bit amused and a bit confused as Anakin slowly trooped towards the door after first meal, visibly drooping. While his academic schedule had not yet been determined, he was in the classes on the Force with younglings half his age.

"You don't seem too happy today," Obi-Wan commented. His padawan frowned and mumbled something about classes with babies.

"You need a foundation for everything you will learn about the Force; you are at the younglings' level, at least for now. So what if you're much older than they – they probably look up to you."

"They laugh at me."

Obi-Wan came over and put his hands on Anakin's shoulder. Dealing with a young padawan's frustrations had him digging back in his own memories for similar experiences, and how best he could have been helped through them. As a padawan, he had thought most of the work was on the padawan's shoulders; as a master, he was finding how wrong he had been.

"Well, younglings like to laugh at what they don't understand, or just in fun. Laugh back. They're probably laughing with you, not at you."

"Are, too."

He was also learning that Anakin had a rather pronounced pout at times; he'd stick out his chin almost defiantly and dare someone to contradict him.

"Are they laughing at the others as well?" Anakin nodded reluctantly. "And do the others laugh back? Well, then, they're not picking on you."

"But I'm smarter than them."

"I'm not sure we know that; smart as you are, you're also older than them and know a lot more - but you are all at the same level of understanding about the Force. For now. I promise, work hard and learn a lot so you can catch up to your age mates and I'll talk to the Council about adjusting your classes."

"Can't you teach me?" A hopeful look was matched by the lip quiver Anakin did so well.

"It takes someone special to teach the basics and that someone is not me. Besides, I'll have my hands on you soon enough and you might change your mind about that." He leaned forward and whispered, "I haven't taught a padawan before – our secret, okay?"

He tweaked the braid and watched Anakin leave, not really happy, but resigned.

Even before this conversation, Obi-Wan was well aware that Anakin was not happy as he had already spoken to the class instructor as well as to Master Yoda. All agreed Anakin needed to learn the basics of the Force before he could take his place with his age mates.

After cleaning up breakfast, Obi-Wan picked up the datapad and carried it with an expression of schooled distaste on his face, wanting to catch Mace Windu before the day's Council session.

He wanted any reminder of those last few days with Qui-Gon gone, wiped as if from memory. Later – later he would find comfort in older memories, but for now, he was determined to forge new ones. With Anakin.

"Obi-Wan, come in," Mace greeted him. The young Jedi merely bowed and offered the datachip, dropping it into a confused Council member's hand.

"Master Windu, both as Qui-Gon's friend and as a member of the Council, I give this datachip into your possession in case there is some pertinent information on it you might need. The first part of it is – one of Qui-Gon's notorious rants when he was most upset."

To his credit, Obi-Wan mustered a wan smile. "Once he had his rants out of his system, he would find release in meditation. I do not believe you have been an ear witness to such. I have rarely, myself – and I was not the object of his ire that other time. I do not judge him harshly, but - I could not…bring myself to listen to the entire contents."

He bowed and walked away, arms tucked within his sleeves. He was happy to be rid of it.

**

"…_but Obi-Wan! I have never been so disappointed in him. He's not the Jedi or man I've raised him to be, that I was so sure he was. Obi-Wan stands with the Council when he should stand with me – or step aside._

"_My padawan, he is jealous of a boy who he must see will be a much greater Jedi than he could ever hope to be. Never would I have thought Obi-Wan to be so petty and jealous as to – to deny the Force's will, even, and delight in a child's heartbreak. Let the Council do with him as it thinks best: I will obey both the Force and honor my promise to the boy. If he can, let Obi-Wan try to prove his worth and move on and I will take Anakin as my padawan…pathetic life forms, indeed…._

"_Anakin is no 'pathetic lifeform' as Obi-Wan called him, he's the Chosen One…." _

Mace now understood the taut face and set mouth of his visitor. _Oh, Qui-Gon_, he thought, _this is not the legacy you would have wished to leave_, followed by a hope that Anakin had not been party to the outburst. _The last of the boy you trained is burned out of Obi-Wan. He is a man now, but something is gone from him. The soft edges have been ground off, and that is a not entirely a good thing._

He stopped the recording. It was time for the Council to meet. He would have to listen to the rest later and decide what, if anything, he should do.

**

"I'll get it," Anakin shouted, running to the door. Two Jedi stood there. Neither looked too surprised to see him. "Hi, who are you?"

"Hi squirt – you must be Obi's padawan. Anakin Skywalker, right?"

A vigorous nod greeted that. "Do you know Obi-Wan?"

"Do I know Obi-Wan?" The male Jedi feigned shock. "Since he was smaller than you. I'm Garen Muln and this is Siri Tachi – hey, you gundark, how are you?" Garen gripped his friend by the forearms and stared at him with a critical eye when the knight came to the door.

"Garen, Siri – Force, it's great to see you two."

"Hey, Kenobi." Siri smiled and grasped his hand. "Wouldn't you know, Garen and I ran into each other right outside your door. First place we came, you know."

He squeezed her hand in return then stepped back as Garen released him. He put his hands on Anakin's shoulder. "So you've two met Anakin here. My padawan." He smiled down at Anakin who wiggled in delight. "He's a ball of energy and running me ragged. Come on in, sit."

Anakin couldn't restrain his curiosity anymore. "Are you the Garen I'm not supposed to tell secrets to because you'll blab them?"

The dark haired Jedi clutched his heart and looked wounded. "Secrets? Blabbing? What lies has Obi-Wan been telling you?"

"Peas, lunkhead." Siri elbowed Garen in the ribs. "Remember how you just blurted that out and the look Qui-Gon gave Obi – ah." She turned to Obi-Wan, a contrite expression on her face. "Hey, Kenobi…I'm sorry. I know how hard it must be…." Impulsively, she hugged Obi-Wan.

"You're not one of his many girlfriends are you?" Anakin giggled as Obi-Wan clapped his hand over the padawan's mouth and whispered into his ear, "Hey, you're as bad as Garen at keeping secrets."

The look that Siri threw him earned a "we'll talk about this another time" shrug. "Be careful what you joke about with this one."

"Master had a crush on Master Yaddle!"

"Did he now? So did I." Garen swung the boy up and dumped him unceremoniously on the couch. "All the crechlings had a crush on her, but I don't think Obi ever got over his."

"Don't give away all my secrets! Garen, don't encourage him."

"I don't know any others," Anakin complained. He looked hopefully at Garen. "Master says he has a lot but I have to discover them. Do you know what they are?"

"Secrets, Kenobi?" Siri shook her head. She glanced over at Garen and Anakin, happily talking away then back at Obi-Wan. "Whatever those secrets are, they seem to have bit you. You don't look like you're sleeping well. Do you feel like talking about it – any of it?"

"No." He cleared his throat. "It hurt too much – then – and now – I'm fine. Anakin is the here and now, isn't he…wouldn't Qui-Gon be proud, finally, that I'm living in the moment?" He refused to meet Siri's eyes; she knew him too well. Right now he didn't want her pity or her sympathy. He didn't want to talk about or think about Qui-Gon Jinn. He wasn't ready to go there.

"What do you mean 'proud, finally'? Listen, Kenobi, I don't know much about what happened in Council before you two left for Naboo but it's pretty much an open secret that he tried to dump you for that kid. Knowing that tactless oaf, he didn't think before he spoke because we both know he would never knowingly or deliberately hurt you. When he was convinced he heard the Force, he let nothing stand in the way."

"Siri, please, don't," Obi-Wan whispered.

"All right, just know that I'm ready to listen when you're ready to talk and get it off your chest."

"No, Siri. I don't need to talk about Qui-Gon. I – I can't." He scrubbed his face with one hand and sighed.

"I think you need to, sometime."

"Siri, don't. Just – don't, okay?"

At the edge in Obi-Wan's voice, Garen looked up and over at Siri. Anakin chewed his lip then came over and tugged at Obi-Wan's hand, earning the knight's attention.

"Is it okay if I talk about Master Qui-Gon? Please? I want to tell about winning the pod-race and what I did on Naboo and all – okay, Obi-Wan?"

"Yes, well…." Obi-Wan sighed. "Sure, you talk to Garen and Siri while I make us some caf – and some juice for you."

He moved into the small kitchen and did his best to busy himself until Anakin was talked out. He had no need to live in the past – or listen to it either.

Only the here and now mattered.

Anakin. Not Qui-Gon.


	11. Epilogue

**Thanks to all for reading...this story began some time ago as a "filler" while I struggled with other stories. Now, some years later, I can laugh at some of the POV shifts I would now likely catch and amend if I were writing this fresh.**

**

* * *

****Epilogue**

"Master Windu!" Surprise was evident in the young knight's face. The cold mask of indifference he had worn just days before had settled into mild impassivity. The barely restrained humor and lively interest that usually lurked behind his eyes was not yet visible, but the lack of taut muscles were signs that the young man – that Obi-Wan – might be emerging from his emotional shell.

"'Mace,' and no tea, Obi-Wan," Mace almost smiled as he stepped inside. "Your padawan is still in classes?"

"He is. Are you here to discuss him?" An eyebrow rose.

Now that he was a knight, Kenobi seemed to be feeling a bit more free to express himself with gestures, rather than restraining himself to the ever-obedient and compliant padawan always two steps behind his master.

"No, and I am remembering a certain Padawan who seemed rather free with the formalities – in certain situations."

The smile disappeared behind thin, taut lips.

"Qui-Gon was willing to allow a certain – familiarity – at times." The hurt still ran deep, Mace saw, when the jaw clenched before allowing out a few curt words.

So, Obi-Wan wasn't going to voice the rest of his thought, that which was readily apparent to Mace: _"He came to regret this."_ He hoped he was doing the right thing.

"He also allowed himself a deep affection. He didn't regret that." Only another raised eyebrow and silence met this comment. "I think you should listen to the rest of what's on here, Obi-Wan."

The chill suddenly turned to fire, as Obi-Wan's eyes flared. He remained silent, though; breathed in heavily, out.

_He's much quicker to release his emotions and center himself since all this_, Mace noted idly.

"I have no wish –" he froze as Mace touched the button and Qui-Gon's voice filled the room. The older Jedi settled back and kept his eyes on the younger, gauging his reaction.

"_I was neither kind nor considerate in Council yesterday. No matter my utter frustration with the Council, I cannot forgive myself for my treatment of my Obi-Wan. I cannot speak to him – my hurt runs too deep, as does his, and I fear he will not listen to any words of mine. He is stubborn, like me, and I am sure we will both sulk for some time before making up."_ A chuckle interrupted the words.

"_I said Obi-Wan is ready for the trials, and I believe he is. He still has anger within him, but he has learned to call it back. He will call it back, though I wish he could be free of it. He has probably already released it, though his old master hasn't yet. I can't apologize to him. Not yet, and no doubt, he'll be apologizing to me first. I should be the one to apologize, but I can't. Not because he was right, or wrong, but because he is such a convenient target at the moment. Unfair to him, of course, but we will make it up."_

A sigh. _"I have hurt Obi-Wan. Deeply. He deserves so much better. I must be sure to let him know he has been a joy to guide and I have never regretted for one moment taking him as my apprentice. Not one, Obi-Wan. _

"_Padawan, mine. What would I say to you, could I say anything right now? You are ready to take the trials in all respects save one: I have not prepared you to step forward on your own this soon. You have sought independence even as you have relished the comfort of being a part of a team._

"_The Force tells me to train Anakin. My heart tells me I hurt you, one of the most generous and gentle souls I have been privileged to know; broke both a vow and a commitment of my heart. I admit it._

"_You are worthy, Obi-Wan. Of the next step, of independence, and my love. I can't tell you yet, and you can't hear me for the pain I so cruelly caused. _

"_Have I cast you loose? Yes. Have I cast you off? Never. I have cast you into your own life. You will be a great Jedi. You have only one thing between you and greatness: forgiveness of my impulsive, heedless words born of my own anger. I need you to forgive me, not for the peace it will bring me, but for the peace it will bring you._

"_My apprentice…your braid will soon be severed and I shall hold it in my hand, my dearest possession. I shall be proud to say he is the one I helped shape, but you are, ultimately, beyond my shaping. You will always be who you are, my Obi-Wan. My dearest companion, my dear padawan._

"_I vow to mend the barriers between us soon, to mend the pain I caused and regain the friendship that blossomed so long. You mended my broken heart once; I hope to mend yours._

"_May the Force be with you all your days, padawan mine…."_

There was silence as Mace switched off the device. Obi-Wan was sitting still and posture perfect, but his eyes were blinking back tears.

"He loved you, Obi-Wan," Mace said, patting the knight on the knee. "Let it go, Obi-Wan. Forgive him."

He watched as Obi-Wan stood, shaking his head and clenching his hands into fists at his side. After a long moment, Obi-Wan spoke in a low whisper. "I already have."

Just as Mace started to relax, Obi-Wan continued, "It's myself I can't forgive. Am I so blind – blind to another's heart? To the man who raised me from a boy to be a Jedi – and I am instead, this?"

"No, Obi-Wan. Not blind…just shadowed by pain and hurt, and words you were not meant to hear. You're exactly the knight Qui-Gon raised you to be – one who feels, who is much a man as a Jedi. Let that man heal, but don't push him away. Don't be just Jedi. Be Obi-Wan Kenobi, and you'll be fine." As he spoke, Mace rose and laid a hand on the young knight's shoulder and squeezed.

"I'm Anakin's master, Master Windu. That's who I am now." The young knight's voice was quiet and bleak. "That's who Anakin needs me to be. Thank you for coming."

Mace nodded in quiet resignation. It would take some time. Obi-Wan would do his duty, and do it well. He just hoped he would learn to forgive himself before long.

As he left, he couldn't help looking back. Obi-Wan's face was serene and quiet, filled with purpose.

The young knight would be okay.

Wouldn't he?


End file.
